


Manuals and midair malfunctions

by Supraslut



Category: One Direction
Genre: Allusions to smut, M/M, harry is a flight attendant, i can't live with anything but a happy ending, liam and zayn are liam and zayn, mentions of drugs so don't read if you can't handle it, niall has a back story and a permanent hard on, rantings of a certifiable crazy person, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supraslut/pseuds/Supraslut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things in Louis Tomlinson's life that he could live without:</p><p>1.) student loans. Seriously? Fucking eww. Who thought it was a good idea to give him money and expect him to pay it back... with interest... on a regularly scheduled basis? Whoever it was was a fucking moron and needed to fuck off and die as slowly as it was taking Louis to climb out of his deep, self-dug hole of debt.</p><p>2.) the drunk Irish kid sitting next to him. He had this pungent aroma of whiskey wafting off him like a fog (Louis knew about contact highs and he was worried about getting contact drunk from the Irishman- that's how much he utterly reeked of alcohol- before Louis realized how ludicrous the idea sounded) and kept asking him things in Spanish... which would be totally alright and normal considering they were on a flight from Mexico back to the UK, but 1.) the bloke was Irish, 2.) the kid was sitting a tad too close for comfort despite the fact that said boy was fairly attractive, 3.) Louis didn't speak Spanish despite his frequent trips to Mexico but 4.)he could ascertain that the guy was whispering some pretty dirty shite in his ear and they hadn't even taken off the ground yet.</p><p>3.) the half dozen balloons of coke up his arse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manuals and midair malfunctions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zarah5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarah5/gifts), [Scottimcniceass](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Scottimcniceass), [stylinspasm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinspasm/gifts).



> So this is for stylinspasm. I write a bit but never has anything been so personal. everything here is a work of fiction. I wish I owned one direction but I don't but i do claim all mistakes made in the next bit of text you read. Thanks for taking the time and I appreciate you all. Hopefully someone tells you how truly beautiful you are enough for you to believe it. Thanks Harry to my Louis... or Zayn in this case.

Things in Louis Tomlinson's life that he could live without:

1.) student loans. Seriously? Fucking eww. Who thought it was a good idea to give him money and expect him to pay it back... with interest... on a regularly scheduled basis? Whoever it was was a fucking moron and needed to fuck off and die as slowly as it was taking Louis to climb out of his deep, self-dug hole of debt.

2.) the drunk Irish kid sitting next to him. He had this pungent aroma of whiskey wafting off him like a fog (Louis knew about contact highs and he was worried about getting contact drunk from the Irishman- that's how much he utterly reeked of alcohol- before Louis realized how ludicrous the idea sounded) and kept asking him things in Spanish... which would be totally alright and normal considering they were on a flight from Mexico back to the UK, but 1.) the bloke was Irish, 2.) the kid was sitting a tad too close for comfort despite the fact that said boy was fairly attractive, 3.) Louis didn't speak Spanish despite his frequent trips to Mexico and he was 4.) pretty sure that despite his limited knowledge of the language, he could ascertain that the guy was whispering some pretty dirty shite in his ear and they hadn't even taken off the ground yet.

3.) the half dozen balloons of coke up his arse.

Addendum to things Louis could live without: lists. He wasn't very good at making them and they seemed sort of contrived and obnoxious in a way that seemed to mock him in a condescending and pretentious fashion. If Louis made a list it was pretty much a given that it was negative and would be doomed to incompletion. They might have been a wonderful technique for SOME people to stay on top of tasks or organize their thoughts, but they just managed to make Louis feel frumpy and older than his years and supremely inadequate because- as he just concluded moments earlier- he could never finish the abhorrent shite.

Part two of addendum: thinking in the third person because now Lou was confused and what did it say to him if his own inner monologue managed to outsmart him? Pretty fucking pathetic.

But back to his earlier train of thoughts... and things he was positive would send him to an early grave due to his unnecessary overthinking and dwelling on things he shouldn't let clutter up his mental landscape.

He also didn't like the word "things". So many things were "things". The world was so filled with "things" and the term was terribly generic and nondescript yet necessary to the human language. Fucking "things". Fuck.

Continuation of the original list- 4.) that atrocious and absurdly attractive stewardess. No, "stewardess" wasn't the correct gender specific noun and "flight attendant" didn't really feel like the right terminology either, but at least it was PC. Anyway that was complete beside the point because the member of the flight crew was currently demonstrating what to do in case of an emergency water landing. In Louis opinion, if they were to crash, the most appropriate course of action was to bend over and kiss your sorry arse goodbye because if impact didn't kill you, then being stranded hundreds of kilometers away from any shore in a "water landing" would.

Maybe Louis could've been an air host. Yeah, that job title sounded even sillier than the others. At least it would be a legal way to make some cash.

At that thought he decided "nope" because that job would not only require Louis to a.) interact with crazy, grumpy, world weary travelers and social interaction kind of disgusted and tired Louis out, but b.) (more importantly) he would have have to cater to the unwashed masses' every whim. At over 13 thousand feet in the air. In what reminded Louis of a flying tin can...

...which Louis felt was sort of clever description because he was packed into a tight chair that barely accommodated his voluptuous bum, overcrowded by the people around him like sardines in a cheap tin. Christ he felt odd saying voluptuous. Much like the word "moist" or "cumquat". They were so bizarre sounding out loud and managed to retain their awkwardness even when he used them in his head. Moist. Moooooist. Cumquat. Cumquat. Cumquat cumquat cumquat. Recite a word until you forget the meaning and are just left with the feelings and emotions that a person associates with it because it's semi-entertaining... or don't because Louis had already been distracted from that line of thought by the bloke who was reminding him to check for the exit closest to his row, that the life vests were located under their seats, if oxygen masks fell from the overhead to put one on before attempting to aid anyone else (like helping out someone else before himself even crossed Louis' thought patterns. Psssh. He MIGHT save Zayn. Might depending on the day, but still), the restrooms at the front of the plane were for first class only- which he was NOT in- but Louis kind of tuned the rest of the spiel out because he had heard it all before and he was too busy watching that guy's lips. 

Louis found himself fascinated by the way the attendant's lips were so so red- like fruit punch, or candy, or something horrendously sweet- the way the bloke's mouth slowly and carefully formed around ever syllable. The attendant had a nice voice- deep and rumbly- that didn't match his cherubic face or halo of curls. He looked like a man-child, his young face disproportionate to his tall body, all long limbs, broad shoulders, and endless torso that culminated in a tiny waist. He was gorgeous and Louis couldn't imagine for the life of himself why this person had decided to work on a plane. This bloke looked more adapted for writing poetry at some small bohemian café in Paris, loose cable knit sweater artfully hung on his frame while he sipped some overly indulgent cappuccino as he multitasked and puffed on a cigarette with ink stained fingers, trying to come up with the next segment of prose with a romantic vista that overlooked the Eiffel Tower behind him or some shit.

Yeah, Louis could definitely see that in his mind's eye instead of the chap hunched over so his head didn't brush the claustrophobically low ceiling of the glorified air bus.

"Ow. Fucking ow," Louis complained, rubbing the sensitive part of his elbow gingerly where he had just been pinched.

Which brought Louis to numbers 5 (middle seats on airplanes) and 6 (Zayn) on his ever growing list. And was he still making lists because Louis had already professed his utter disdain for the bloody things.

"Zayn, we had a deal. If I let you have the window, I got the armrest," Louis chastised. "Seriously, what the fuck bro?"

"I remember no such bargain," Zayn countered, a mischievous glimmer recognizable in Zee's eyes that were almost narrowed into slits, jaw jutted out and ready to take Louis on in a challenge if need be. Louis hated that smug look on his best mate's face because, seriously, Lou couldn't remember a time in history, recent or distant, where it hadn't spelled Trouble with a capital T. Louis should slap Zayn just so he COULDN'T make it. The conundrum Louis found was that he could never predict how "the look" would eventually be (because it always was) problematic and was usually arse deep in shite before he realized where things had taken a wrong turn. Hindsight was a fucking cunt. What could Zayn be up to now? "Besides you really needed to stop staring at the flight attendant. It was starting to look creepy because you hadn't blinked once in the past 5 minutes." And ah, there was the catch. This argument really probably had nothing to do with territory, but the fact that Louis might or might not have been ogling the possibly straight person paid to make sure no one lit up a fag in the loo or did something stupid like try to open the door mid flight and have all the passengers sucked out into space somewhere over the Atlantic.

"You twat. We even pinky swore on it when we were still in the concourse," Louis squabbled, refusing to acknowledge the last bit of Zayn's statement because he wasn't being "creepy" and he refused to cater to Zayn's taunt. Louis was just admiring the lad's face... and hands... and hips which wasn't a crime. Truly and Louis knew a thing or two about what could get a person arrested. Louis was observing him like a patron of the arts would appreciate a painting in a museum. Nothing wrong with that at all. That's why pretty things were put in this world, to look at and fuck Zayn and everything he was insinuating. "You can't renege on me now, arse. That. Is. mine." Louis said firmly and slowly, enunciating every syllable, trying to get it through Zayn's extremely nice looking but dense head that Louis was onto him for once and he wasn't going to take the bait- not about the stupid flight attendant OR the damned arm rest.

"I had my fingers crossed," Zayn said casually, placing his forearm protectively across the disputed territory they were fighting over.

"Are you 5?" Louis dead panned, poking Zayn's bony shoulder repeatedly with his index finger like he couldn't actually conceptualize that someone that dim sat next to him.

"That is not a logical question since you were the one who suggested we seal the deal with a 'pinky swear'. Real mature Tomlinson," Zayn said haughtily. Louis could tell that Zayn was itching to cross his arms in contest, but doing so would give Louis access to said arm rest causing him to forfeit the argument.

At this point the Irishman on the other side of Louis leaned over so he could get a good view of Zayn. "A pinky swear is a binding contract at any age," the peroxide blonde said, inserting himself into the discussion.

"Thank you," Louis said, happy that someone had taken his side because that hardly ever happened. "Now if you'd kindly-" Louis began, voice laden thickly with sarcasm, but he was interrupted by that obnoxious lilting accent again.

"But he crossed his fingers which is an automatic null and void of any verbal agreement. Sorry mate, but you're shite out of luck," the Irishman concluded. "You got to make sure you see both hands when you're making a deal like that."

"What are you, the pinky swear police?" Louis said in a perturbed fashion because who asked this kid for his opinion anyway? Answer: not Louis.

"Naw, I'm a solicitor," Blondie said seriously. Was he kidding because the arsehole looked to be about 22 and that was a bit young to be in law, plus Louis was almost certain solicitors didn't go around sexually harassing people in a foreign language since they were familiar with the ramifications if Louis decided to sue. Pretty certain. Decently certain. Or maybe drunk guy used his legal know-how to skirt through the system and get away with his verbal atrocities.

Louis looked at his best mate who was now gloating, running his fingers across the cheap metal and plastic barrier with unconcealed glee.

"I'm Zayn," Zayn introduced, lifting his free hand and holding it out to Irish, right in front of Louis' face which was a blatant intrusion of his personal space- which was already diminished because Zayn took the fucking arm rest that was rightfully Louis'.

"'M Niall," Irish replied, grasping Zayn's outstretched hand in a firm and manly shake. Who even did that if they were under the age of 50 anymore, anyway? It was all head nods and fist bumps these days if someone introduced you or deemed you worthy enough of acknowledging your existence. Louis was sure Zayn was doing all this to fuck with him and gloat because Zayn hadn't introduced himself to a new person since they were 11. After that it was Louis who would state their names, Zayn too shy or embarrassed or something, standing next to Louis and nudging their shoulders together and Zayn whispering in Louis ear, saying "YOU tell 'em". When Zayn and Lou got older, it was people tripping over their own jaws to introduce themselves to Zayn because of his glossy good looks and rough exterior.

"This little ray of sunshine is Louis," Zayn offered and fuck Zayn because he hadn't been planning on telling the kid in a snapback, oversized hoodie, and stupidly large and bright trainers his name, much less talk to him. Louis had heard Niall murmur something into Louis' ear not 10 minutes ago while the plane was busy readying to taxi that involved the word "verga" and Louis knew just enough to understand that whatever Niall had whispered was something about his dick. So no, Louis didn't feel like chatting to the foul mouthed bastard for however many godforsaken hours this flight would take- if they ever managed to take off.

"Louis, eh? Sounds French," Niall commented, raising his eyebrow suggestively. "I like that. This should be a good flight," he added with an overly exaggerated wink. Louis could clearly hear Zayn snickering next to him. Louis shifted awkwardly in his seat, stiffening his back and feeling what was probably a solid 8,000 € worth of nose candy pleasantly packaged in balloons, but not so pleasantly lodged in his colon.

"This is utter bullshit," Louis griped as he sat forward in his seat stiffly to press the "call" button that summoned an attendant.

Moments later, fit flight attendant appeared in his crisp white button down shirt, navy trousers which had to be part of a uniform because they were sinfully out of fashion (and yet managed to hug in all the right places which Louis was desperately trying not to notice) and salmon pink tie that had had tiny bananas of all things printed on it and pressed on the illuminated call button to turn it off.

Louis focused on the crew member looming above him, looking completely cooperative and willing to help with a large grin that revealed a set of pristine white teeth and a fucking dimple which didn't seem fair because it did something to Louis, something that buzzed deep in his abdomen and zinged right up his spine like a shock of electricity. This was not the time for that. No, definitely not considering it felt like he needed to take the largest and almightiest of shites known to mankind which was possibly the least sexy thought ever.

"Bananas," Louis muttered mostly to himself because he had to focus on something right then and it happened to be the little yellow fruit on the tie instead of how trim and lean the flight attendant appeared and Niall guffawed next to him because of course he would hear Louis and bananas could be construed as one of the more sexual of fruits and Irish had been talking about cock in Spanish for the last 45 minutes.

"I'm sorry?" The angelic crew member asked because, thank whatever deity was out there, he hadn't heard Louis' bad case of verbal vomit. Louis noticed a small placard with silvery wings adorning it pinned to the attendant's shirt, right above the breast pocket that was obviously meant for decoration because nothing of any importance or substance could possibly be held in it. Louis squinted so he could read the tag- and fucking glasses. He accidentally left his in the motel room in Mexico City and refused point blank to wearing contacts while flying because the recycled air made his eyes dry-, gritty at best- and found the label to read "Harry".

"He said he likes your bananas," Niall slurred graphically and Louis was cursing those gods he was thanking mere seconds ago. Good naturedly, the attendant grabbed the pink tie and waved it around, like nothing that had occurred in the last minute could be construed in a sexual way and conversations like this were perfectly normal.

"It's the only thing the airline lets us pick to wear of our own. My sister got me this one just this past Christmas and I guess I loved it even if it was meant to be a gag gift. I eat a banana for brekkie every morning no matter where I am, home or not. Wonderful source of potassium and all, but I think it might even be good for the soul," Harry puttered on, grinning the entire time. "But you don't want to hear about that," Harry admonished, correcting the course of his rambled musings, but the thing was that Louis sort of did want to hear about it. Or better yet even, to see it. Louis couldn't help but imagine Harry the flight attendant waking up in some foreign city, yawning and rubbing at the sleep that had crusted at the corners of his eyes during the night and forcing himself out of some hotel bed where the linens weren't as comfortable and worn as his at home. Louis wondered what ringtone Harry had set to wake him up. Louis vividly pictured Harry's silhouette, nothing but a dark figure against the bright morning light in tight briefs eating a banana, looking out at whatever city he found himself in that particular day, getting his daily soul enriching dose of potassium. "What can I do for you?" Harry asked, seeming to remember that he was indeed supposed to be working and that Louis had pressed the call button so he must be in need of some assistance. 

"Err, right," Louis stuttered, coming out of his daze, scooching down lower into the vinyl chair, trying to shrink away and hide his growing blush from the fit bloke, his mind inevitably meandering to all the dirty things Harry could "do for him". The flight attendant was more handsome close up and it made Louis uncomfortable as he tried not to make himself look like a complete donut. It also didn't help that Harry was stupidly endearing in the way that he spoke and Louis had practically just had a waking wet dream about him. Louis turned his head so he could look at Zayn for a minute so he could clear his sex addled brain, but that was a mistake. Zayn was staring at Harry and Zayn was making that face again while scratching at his two day scruff on his chin like he was thinking. No, like he was some evil mastermind in a film, a cat away from being that cartoonish and unoriginal villain, plotting away, smiling almost sinisterly like something he had dreamt up had come to fruition. It was almost comical how pleased Zayn looked and Louis could feel that trouble brewing, almost tangible and visible like storm clouds on the horizon. Louis looked at Niall instead who was leering at Louis, wide eyed and hungry, like Lou was a pork chop and Niall was a starved man. The situation just sucked and Louis wanted someone to blame, but even better he wanted a way to fix it. "Harry, is it possible to move seats?" Louis asked in the kindest way possible, pleading puppy dog eyes and all, trying to coerce Harry into moving him away from the two lunatics flanking him.

Harry gave him a genuinely apologetic look because of course he would, he was paid to. Louis knew that, but he had also ascertained from Harry's moment of babble that he was also just actually THAT nice a person, not that he was secretly standing there, already harboring feelings and emotions and fantasizing about what morning Louis was like to behold- like Louis was for Harry. Fuck shit fuck. Louis tried to remember unflattering things like how his Nan's house always smelled horribly of mothballs, cleaning his sister's cat's litter box, the fact that his parents had to have sex for him to actually be here and alive at this moment... and yep that last one did it and killed all possibilities of him getting hard for the next little while no mater how helpful Harry was and fit he was while doing it. "Sorry sir, but this is a fully booked flight. People were even waiting on stand by to try and board. Is there anything else I could do for you? A drink or an extra blanket perhaps?"

Niall giggled and Zayn made this odd chortling sound in the back of his throat, watching the exchange between Louis and Harry. Louis wondered what would happen when he brutally murdered the two people on either side of him and which authorities would prosecute him for the violent act if he did it once they were over international waters. Louis bet that once he gave his side of the story to the police, they'd agree that homicide was a service to humanity and Louis was totally justified in his actions, maybe even give him a fucking medal or something... until that they found out that he was trafficking drugs up his arse. Oops. 

"Are you serious? There's nothing available at ALL?" Louis wasn't too proud to beg because dire circumstances called for extreme measures. Harry just shook his head, his soft fluffy curls falling into his impossibly wide eyes. Seriously, the things were huge and almost feline. "Fine. I'll take a vodka and cranberry. If I have to deal with these two fuckbuckets, I might as well be pissed during the ordeal," Louis sighed, resigned to his fate and interminably bad luck.

Harry chewed on his lip for a moment, obviously deliberating on how he was going to say something. 

"Out with it," Louis barked, not really wanting to be rude to adorable Harry, but let's face it, Louis was kind of a self-admitted arsehole who was already tired of the shenanigans he had been dealing with all morning and wanted fit bloke to go away so Louis could try and hide his mounting shame, mortification, and maybe rearrange his bunching trousers.

"That'll be 5£ sir and I need to see ID," Harry said nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking down at the fingers that he knotted together fretfully.

"5 po- that's bloody robbery," Louis squawked indignantly. "For a tiny little bottle of Absolute? That's- that's criminal. An outrage, I tell you. I should report this atrocity to FAA or parliament or Her Royal Highness or summat," he shouted, drawing neighboring passengers in other rows to turn around and glare at him, judging him for his lack of respect for the unspoken whisper laws on a plane.

A moment of silence lapsed amongst the four lads after Louis' spectacle of a rant, each not sure what to do or how to placate Louis who was acting like he was on his "man period". Niall looked slightly turned on, but Louis wasn't sure if that was the way Niall's face was built or if it was in fact the only facial expression he knew how to make while Zayn just sat there, unimpressed because that was just what Louis normally did- he bitched and moaned and complained like it was going out of style. Harry- well, he was just confused and Louis was pretty sure Harry was going through his mental flight attendant's handbook of what to do when one of your passengers is mentally ill or flies off the rails. Finally Harry spoke, and it was gentle and slow and had a glum tinge to the careful words.

"So do you still want the drink?" Harry asked meekly.

"Uuugh. Yes," Louis groaned, relenting as he reached towards his rucksack that was stowed underneath the seat in front of him so he could get his wallet out. He grabbed his passport and a fiver and goddamned it, he really couldn't afford the alcohol, but he needed it before he had a breakdown and damn it, his arse hurt and not in the good way. It wasn't the way it burned and thrummed after a good hard fuck.

Louis kind of wished for one of those bad made-for-tellie movie moments where Harry's large hand would brush up against Louis', and it would be warm and slightly calloused, but nothing like that happened. It was sad and maybe that was what Louis got for being a secret romantic and watching that shite programming to begin with, but it was also probably a blessing because now that Louis thought about it, Louis knew that he'd spend the next 10 plus hours dreaming and glorifying the non-existent "moment" and end up just needing a good wank which was an impossibility because oh, that's right- he was on a plane surrounded by about a hundred other people with cocaine in his colon. Harry scrutinized the identification he was given, his eyebrows scrunching as he looked it over and then taking the wrinkled note from Louis. "Alright Mr. Tomlinson, I'll be back with your drink. Do either of you need anything?" he asked the others.

Niall lifted his hips off the cheap wanna-be leather so that he could shove his hands into the back pocket of his sweatpants, retrieving a tenner. "I'll take a double whiskey," and Louis rolled his eyes because of course Niall would want more liquor despite the fact that he really didn't need anymore.

"Orange juice but no ice in it," Zayn said without a courteous "please". Zayn was kind of shit at manners and being pleasant, always had been and maybe that's sort of how Louis and he became friends. They had both been two gawky kids no one else on the playground wanted to chose for their team, too socially inept to really deal with anyone else and bonded over their mutual disdain for almost everything and everyone. It was a match made in heaven due to a lot of their similarities. But as they grew up, Zayn filled out and had managed to skate buy on unfair cheekbones, long lashes that framed exotic eyes, and that air about him that said "I don't give a fuck what I look like" adding to the mysterious and brooding character people built in their minds of Zayn. Not a soul seemed to remember Zayn's awkward phase or the fact that they'd all known him since he was 9 and if they looked back in their yearbooks, they'd see a picture of a thin Zayn with a bad home done haircut and a black Spider-Man tee shirt, and really people- come on! To Louis it was obvious Zayn spent 20 minutes on his hair alone to get the perfect I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-naturally-woke-up-looking-this-sexy visage and knew for a fact that Zayn picked out what he was going to wear the next day every night before he fell asleep just so he'd look good. Zayn's off-handed comments just fueled the bad boy persona while Louis' sarcastic remarks were thought of as bitchy and too honest while Louis could practically FEEL Zayn thinking the exact same thing in his head and it was unfair that if Zayn had said what Louis just had, he would have gotten away with it and looked bad arse. Louis wondered how he and Zayn still managed to be mates considering they were always bickering, but he knew that because they had managed to stick it out and stay friends, even through a particular rough patch back in sixth form, there was probably no way they'd be rid of each other now... or ever really. It was a blessing and a curse. I mean, who would practically hold your hand on a flight from Mexico when you had a bum full of balloons loaded with blow? Zayn would.

But then again, Louis had been bitching about being completely flat arse broke one night, binging on Doritos because that's all they had left in the cupboard besides a can of Heinz beans and they had each smoked a blunt by themselves... so maybe Louis could point the proverbial finger at Zayn. Because it was then that Zayn mentioned that his dealer had made him a strange offer. He remembers that night and how Zayn had crumbs all over his black henley and Louis fingers were caked with that unnaturally orange fake nacho dust as Zayn explained how his dealer was expanding and was going to be selling some "other stuff". It all sounded so mysterious and far away as Zayn said the bloke just needed a guy to go to Mexico and "pick up the product" so he could put it on the street and make "real money". He offered the job to Zayn, to pay round trip air fare and and for a few nights in a what was probably a dive of a motel. Thing about Zayn was that yeah sure, he was an artist and by definition they were supposed to be starving, but he also took a lot of computer programming courses at university. Zayn had not actually graduated or anything yet, but he had already began writing and doing some coding and fuck, he was already making a profit off it. To add insult to injury, he actually sold two of his paintings and a local gallery was interested in maybe showing some of his other work. Meanwhile, Louis was studying literature and while it wasn't something ridiculously remote and completely unhelpful like say turn of the century Russian poetry- Keats, Hemingway, Tolstoy, and Orwell weren't exactly helping him pay for books, or rent, or more Doritos. He wasn't quite sure what he would do once he was completely done with his education and had an actual literature degree in hand- in fact the only thing he could really think of doing with the information was turning right around and teaching it to someone else- aka: become a professor. And they didn't make a lot of money, and he was going to uni and had the debt for going to those stupid classes that would never help him in the real world looming over his head and he was out of cheesy corn chips and it terrified him.

"Zayn how the fuck am I going to pay for all this?" Louis remembers lamenting as Zayn laughed about how his dealer immediately thought to offer going to Mexico to him, because in Zayn's opinion, everyone who had eyes thought Zayn looked suspicious.

"What?" Zayn questioned, his train of thought being interrupted but he didn't care because he was high as fuck. "Pay for the weed? Cause I told you man, I don't mind covering for you."

"No. Life Zayn! How the fuck am I going to do it all?" Louis asked, choking on waves and waves of emotion that were building and crashing on him, air departing from his body and panic rushing in to fill its void. 

"Dude, chill. You can still crash on my sofa," Zayn said, patting Louis head still not truly understanding Louis and just really trying to get his mate to calm the fuck down and stop killing the vibe. And yes they were at Zayn's flat, which was really Zayn AND Louis' flat despite what it said on the lease because Louis couldn't afford his own place and he had tried living with people at uni through their offered program, but Louis wasn't good at remembering to take out the garbage or that it was his turn to do dishes and hey, not everyone could appreciate the fact that Louis despised socks so it might give his shoes a rather unique and pungent aroma and the people they put him with couldn't stand Louis' neurotic mood swings and Louis always hated the other guys with a vengeance too. But Zayn understood Louis and never asked too much of him because Zayn had been been putting up with Louis' shite for more than half his life. Zayn GOT it so Louis got Zayn's couch with minimal chores. He just had to deal with Zayn, the fact that the flat usually smelled like paint or turpentine from all the art work, Zayn's unusual sleeping patterns, and the fact that he was a complete dork for comics, and was in a very involved and committed relationship with himself.

"No Zee. You just don't see it. I'm never going to have enough or be enough. I'm in debt so deep I don't remember what my feet look like," Louis sobbed and again Zayn gingerly tried to reach out and soothe Louis. "I'm a sinking ship Zayn. Jump now and try to swim away because when I do finally go down, I'm going to create a vortex and take you with me."

"I'm not kidding Lou. We're in this for life mate. I don't know where all this ship talk is coming from- shit do you think the weed was laced or summat?- but I'm always here for you. If I have a roof, then you do too," Zayn promised fervently. "You don't have to worry. Things always look darkest at night," he said and it sounded like some of that shite from batman or something, but in their stoned state it seemed to make sense and sounded epically more profound than it was.

"I'll do it," Louis hiccuped. "I'll pick up the shite from Mexico" Louis said and wiped at his blotchy face and runny nose with his sleeve.

"You sure man? I brought it up as a lark, like a laugh, you know bro?" Zayn responded, genuinely surprised at Louis who was currently a quivering mass of boy, slumped in his lap on the bare linoleum of their kitchen floor.

"I'm sure. I'll do it Zayn. Please," Louis half-begged, desperate to make that terrible growing hole inside him stop- stop expanding and gnawing at him, for him to somehow make himself feel like he was worth something in some way, that if he died tomorrow people wouldn't have to pay monetarily for the fact that he existed.

So Zayn went back to his dealer, but because his dealer didn't know or really trust Louis, he sent both Louis and Zayn to Mexico. Arreba! 

Zayn got a tiny portion of money as a sort of finders fee and for almost being like Louis' handler while Louis did all the hard work. Louis got substantially more money, but still- if they got caught, it was Louis literally almost up to his neck in narcotics, if a balloon broke, it was Louis life in the balance, it was Louis who had to do the nasty prep work, swallow the latex, and then had the fun part of passing the packets.

They had done this twice before without any hitches. The first time had been absolutely terrifying and he remembers having to hang out at the dealer's house, hysterically watching the fucking digital clock slowly change numbers to show the late hour, Louis so filled with nerves that it had backed him up and even after he took some laxitives, everyone was still waiting.

Second time, Zayn was almost keyed up, excited because he felt like he was in one of his graphic novels and getting away with the world. Zayn's adrenaline rubbed off on Louis a bit even though the horrible fear of being caught lingered in the back of his mind, but once again Louis remembered that things definitely probably felt better in the seat next to him because Zayn didn't feel strangely full and uncomfortable. But the money was a great motivator. Louis could buy groceries and not feel guilty about going with the brand of tea he favorited versus the swill Zayn insisted on getting. Louis had purchased a new winter coat and god it felt nice not to shiver so hard his bones rattled and his teeth almost chattered right out of his skull every time he went outside. He was paying for things and it felt good, almost addictive as the shite he was trafficking, not that he would touch the stuff. He knew where that shite had been.

This was the third time and now it almost felt routine despite the danger. Louis had done this. He and Zayn were practically pros at this point, the possibility of him getting caught lurked and itched though, just under his skin like an angry mosquito bite. If Louis scratched the itch, it would just get worse the way if he let himself think about what authorities would do to him if they caught on to what he was doing, fear would explode and be completely out of control. They knew the fastest routes through international security on both sides. They knew to remember to pick up nicotine patches for Zayn before they left because the first time Zayn flew from London to Mexico City, he had been so jittery and had such a headache from withdrawal, he had almost been sick all over Louis. They knew to stop at the tacoria next to the airport in Mexico cause the burritos were delicious, dirt cheap, and they trusted the food. It was a cinch really, no hitches except for one in the form of a sexy flight attendant that made Louis' blood run a little too hot and make his trousers a tad too snug. A person who was now bringing Louis out of his reveries and remembrances.

"Alright. I'll be right back with your beverages," Harry said, hesitantly turning and then marching to the front of the plane, whisking through the navy curtains of first class, hiding him from view.

Yeah, Harry wasn't a hitch, Louis thought. Not a snafu, a puzzlement, or a problem. He wasn't even a blip on the radar. He would probably spend most of his time up in first class where the important people with real money were, not back here with people who could barely cover the price of the cheap seats and balked at 5£ for alcohol. That's what a smart airline would do because Harry was pretty and kind and could make a good impression on the sort of people who didn't have to smuggle drugs like Louis, who weren't in serious need of an attitude adjustment like Zayn was, or smelled of bad whiskey and had a permanent hard on like Niall did. 

Seriously though, Zayn needed to have a word with his dealer and tell him not to use this airlines again. The other flights hadn't charged him for a few cranberry and vodkas to blur the sharp edges of Louis' frayed nerves, to help blind him to what he was doing, keep the fear and regret at bay. "Zayn, you better tell what's his fuck to never book us on this airline again or so help me I'll go to Mexico, get the shite, and sell it my fucking self," Louis bitched. "Fuck me, five pounds," Louis grunted, kicking his foot out as he whined, looking down and seeing Zayn's hand still curled around Louis' arm rest. Niall had his arm on his rest too, his hand outstretched with the palm up like Louis remembered doing at theaters when he was younger, trying to get his date to see that he wanted to hold hands. Niall was fucking daft if he thought Louis was 1.) going to fall for that and 2.) that he wanted to hold Niall's fucking hand. 

Louis hadn't meant to actually make contact with the seat in front of him when he kicked. Ok well, barely reached his foot out diagonally in front of him. Ok, moved his leg in front of Zayn if someone were getting really technical here. It had been an accident and they were finally taking off and making some progress because hey- they were in the air and Louis wasn't busy drooling over Harry at that very moment. Louis thought it was a combination of his foot and the bumpiness of the wheels taking up speed and coming off the ground (because Louis point blank refused to admit this was all his fault because it wasn't. He would not be held culpable and assume responsibility because shite, what if the airline made him pay for it? He couldn't afford it. They'd literally have to take the money out his arse and ha ha, Louis almost laughed at that one. Maybe he should ask Niall about if he could legally be held guilty for the ramifications of what happened because he said he was a solicitor so he'd know, but that meant braving the whiskey breath, having to listen to Niall, and possibly getting groped. No thank you.) and the seat broke. Like full on broke. It fell to the point that it was almost lying like a bed and suddenly, Zayn's lap was very full and his hand that had been on the rest was trapped. Suddenly Louis saw the positivity in losing that one argument.

"Ouch" Zayn yelped, trying to free the skin that was wedged. Louis looked and saw that it was that tiny bit of webbing between Zayn's left index finger and his thumb that was caught and oh wow that had to hurt and he hoped to hell it didn't break the skin because from past experience he knew that neither himself or Zayn was good with blood. One day when they were very young and Zayn's little sister was even younger, she took a tumble down the four front steps of Zayn's house while running after a playmate and gave herself a bad bloody nose. She actually didn't even hardly stop except to get up and continue her game, leaving tiny jeweled droplets of red on the pavement in a trail after her while Zayn turned whiter than a sheet of paper and almost passed out and Louis was very busy quite literally running around in tiny circles shrieking "she's gonna die! She's gonna die!".

"Lemme help you," Niall offered gallantly, but his hand instantly went to Louis' crotch instead of where Zayn was trapped. And it wasn't a casual accidental brushing of Niall's hand, but a very sure and steady grab, much like when Zayn and Niall got aquatinted earlier except this time Niall was giving Louis' cock a serious "hi, hello, and nice to meet you".

"Oi, you fucking perv," Louis shouted, definitely not using his inside voice.

"I'm not a perv," a new indignant voice rung out, joining what was now quite a scene. It was a normal voice, definitely male, but nothing Louis would stop traffic for or write home about. Zayn on the other hand (and Louis did laugh this time because ha ha, Zayn's hand was stuck and it was punny) looked like he had been doused with a full pitcher of ice water. He froze and took notice of the bloke that was lying in his lap, painful fingers forgotten. 

Again, Louis was not impressed. The lad was nothing out of the ordinary. He wasn't ugly, but he was no flight attendant. If anything, he struck Louis as slightly monochromatic- lots of browns. Warm browns, but still browns. New guy had dark hair that was shorter on the sides and slightly quiffy at the top and front. To be honest, it looked like Zayn and newbie like to use the same hair products. His face had a nice square jaw that was stubbly, a broad nose that gave him an open looking face, and wide eyes, big and saucer like but it was hard to put the whole picture together because he was sort of upside down so Louis decided he would save real judgement for when the lad was right ways round. His skin reminded Louis of the color Zayn always demanded his tea to resemble if it was made "the right way, you twat" which was when it wasn't brewed terribly strong with a fair share of milk and a packet of sugar.

Zayn was gawping. No really, like actually letting his mouth fall open carelessly then getting frustrated and snapping it shut. If this is how Louis had been looking at Harry then maybe Louis was starting to see the appeal Zayn had in making fun of him.

"Zayn," Louis chuckled but then stopped because oh there was definitely a hand at the button of his trousers. "No means no, Niall!" Louis howled and of course that was the moment Harry walked up. He had three of those flimsy plastic cups airlines seemed to favor all balanced in one hand- a hand so big some might deem it more paw like, the other holding three tiny precious little bottles of overpriced liquor.

"You need to be quiet and sir, you have to put your seat up until we hit an altitude of- oh," Harry started, but then his eyes darted down to Louis crotch. Of fucking course. Louis glanced down and saw that his zipper was half down and Niall's hand was back on his own knee. Niall had the audacity to pretend he was trying to whistle, glancing around the cabin and managing to pull off a witless look of innocence. Prick.

Zayn had a pained look and Louis didn't know if it was because of the chair pinning his hand or the bloke who now found himself right under Zayn's nose. Louis bet the nameless lad could see up Zayn's nostrils. Zayn probably didn't look too hot from that angle Louis thought confidently to himself but then he remembered, shit Harry was there and could probably see the fact that Louis had chosen to wear grey briefs that day.

"He kicked my chair and this happened," the guy Louis now dubbed "twat" accused and well if that didn't make Louis look that much more appealing. Ah sarcasm, one of Louis' favorite inventions- right up there with Velcro, the microwave and indoor plumbing.

Louis could tell Harry had never had a flight like this before and Louis felt a small tug at his heart because he'd rather have come off as some hot eye candy in row 24 that Harry remembered fondly when he was in the shower touching himself tonight, whether that be just washing the sweat and grime of the day from his body or a swift tug at his aching dick. Louis would have preferred that second option, but instead he could tell Harry wanted to scream. Harry huffed out a breath that comically made his fringe blow up and Louis could visibly lip read the flight attendant count backwards from ten. Louis was impressed with how Harry calmly handed Niall the three cups and placed the bottles of liquor in the pocket of the seat adjacent Lou. 

"I- I..." and Louis gave off the impression of a trapped wounded animal. He let his eyes roam and saw that once again, everyone in viewing range was staring at him again, some angry and others waiting raptly to see if Louis could explain his way out of this. Any way you put it Louis was the in-flight entertainment and they hadn't even hit cruising altitude yet. He wondered how much people had witnessed, if people had seen how he had been physically assaulted, his foot barely even grazed twat's chair, and if anything Zayn deserved what he got because he stole the goddamned arm rest!

No, Louis surmised quickly. Everyone just thought Louis was an obnoxiously loud, obtrusive upstart troublemaker slash pervert on the side. There was no way for Louis to not look like an utter arse. Louis rarely found himself in a situation he couldn't use words to get himself out of. He majored in words, for fuck's sake and there was a reason. The day he might have superglued his sister to the refrigerator, he managed to make it sound like her fault. All of his school career, he never got a tardy slip and if you think Louis Tomlinson worked on someone else's time table, you're wrong. The first time he and Zayn got drunk was at Zayn's house, they both got sick off of Kailua and Zayn's own mother took care off Louis while she let her own son lie on the floor and puke into a bucket. Zayn got grounded while Zayn's mom texted Louis that she hoped he felt better the day after that. Don't ask why Louis texted Zayn's mother more than he did his own mum, it's just people like hearing from Louis. He was just THAT good. Even when he "accidentally" set his lab partner ON FIRE, he didn't even get detention- or feel sorry for what he did.

But at this moment, having Harry give him that disappointed face like he really thought Louis was better than that- Louis' mouth filled with cotton, dry and hot and there were no words.

"I'm sorry," and Louis' voice cracked and it sounded like he had a bad sore throat or had been asleep for hours. Harry just sighed and tried to help what's-his-face with his malfunctioning chair. And Louis was sorry and Louis never felt sorry much less voiced it to anyone so Harry didn't realize what he was truly witnessing while Zayn whipped his head around to view Louis like he was dying of some terrible affliction or the apocalypse had started.

"Sir-" Harry began, trying to get the upper part of the chair to go up and yeah, the conversation was back on the kid who made Zayn look like he had suffered a stroke, so umm there was that and at least SOMEONE wasn't staring at Louis like he was the spawn of satan at the moment. 

"Liam," twat said and he could hear Zayn inhale deeply next to him. Zayn was going to hyperventilate if he wasn't careful.

"Ok Liam, please try sitting up and pressing the button while I push" Harry said as he leaned over Niall, past Louis and into Zayn and Liam's shared space. Louis could smell Harry and it was like fresh laundry and baby powder, mixed with something original and a zest of citrus from a cologne. Louis wanted to roll around in this scent or wrap it around him like a cuddly blanket on the rainiest of days. Fuck, Harry's crisp linen shirt was so close to his face, looking at it correctly made him go crosseyed. He glanced over at Niall who (surprisingly) for once in his life was tactfully (not surprisingly) checking out Harry's arse. Louis could only tell what Niall was doing because of Louis angle. Niall saw Louis watching him, gave him a nod, and mouthed the single word "nice". Louis saw red. Part of this was Niall's fault and that was HIS flight attendant so get your own, fuck you very much. And didn't Niall have his hand around Louis cock not three minutes ago? Louis didn't know whether to be offended or relieved so he went with the latter. Liam's seat clicked into place after much labor on Harry's part and Louis was upset (not as upset as Zayn was) but Harry was retreating and oh no, a tiny part of him wanted to cry.

Harry stood up fully and reached for the pocket on the chair that held the alcohol and he hesitated. "I don't even know if I should give these to you," Harry admonished, narrating his inner thoughts to the three of them like he was talking to preschoolers and wanted them to understand the rational behind his decision.

"On all that is holy, don't give the Irishman more whiskey," and Louis heard a few of the onlookers stifle laughter, thinking that Louis was trying to be cute or funny but he was serious. It was a long flight, Louis' abdomen was starting to hurt, and Louis didn't know how to sleep with one eye open. He was seriously worried what he would wake up to if he accidentally dozed off because Niall had already put his hands in Louis' pants and that was while he was fully conscious. He worried for his own well being because Niall was crafty and had managed to get overtly sexual with dozens of people mere feet away from them. It was a good trick and Louis would ask Niall to teach him his ways, but he knew what that sounded like he was offering and no thanks. He had an arse (the one that was actually attached to his body, not the ones who seemed to be seated all around him) that was bothering him and a flight attendant to keep him sexually frustrated.

Niall just happily opened his bottles and sipped directly from them when Harry finally handed them over. Niall looked so pleased, his lips smacking and settling back against his seat, the milky white of his skin offset by the navy of the chair he was in. The brim of his hat had been tucked backward before, but now Niall turned it around so he could comfortably lean back into the pleather and take little nips from his plastic containers of what was definitely not 10£ grade whiskey. 

Harry leaned back in to Louis as the bottle of vodka was given to him. Harry breathed into Louis ear before he spoke and Louis thought he was dreaming for half a second because oh shit, Harry was right there again. Harry spoke loud enough for the three blokes and probably Liam (who had been watching them ever since his seat was restored to its original position) but not everyone else who finally seemed to be returning back to whatever priorly held their interest before Louis had been made to look like an arsehole and an idiot. Harry's words were definitely directed specifically towards Louis. "Mr. Tomlinson," and Louis shivered at the name and the rich timbre of Harry voice "please zip up your trousers," and oh right. He forgot about that in the dizzying world where Harry seemed technicolor and everything else grey and unimportant. Louis fingers nimbly flew to his zip and button, but the digits felt clumsier and thicker than usual which was embarrassing. But for all Louis knew, "Louis" was the knew French word for embarrassment because that's all he had been since he layed eyes on Harry. "Look, I don't know what you do for a living, but I'm a flight attendant and this is probably the fourth flight I've actually crewed on. It must be fun to jet off to Mexico for the weekend when it gets cold in London with your best mate and your boyfriend for some great fun in the sun and whatever weird kinky threesome shite you get off on, but right now there is a little girl two rows up from you asking her very pissed off mother why she doesn't have a penis and I don't really quite know what to do because not only am I pretty much the new guy, I don't really know how I'd answer if I had a kid with that question." Louis couldn't swallow and his head felt like it was filled with stuffing, but on the positive side, he had finally managed to at least get his trousers done up. Niall took a big gulp of his whiskey and Zayn raised his eyebrows with profound amazement as he watched Harry give his eloquent tirade. Very rarely was Zayn actually impressed by words. Louis always had a lot of them and because of it, Zayn had become an excellent bullshit detector and there was none in Harry's stern voice. "I will do my job. I will check up and make sure you lads are okay but I really don't want to be called back here if I don't have to be. Am I understood?" and Louis nodded his head, managing to feel more chastised in that moment than in all of the 18 years he had lived under his mother's roof, before he "grew up" and moved out. He was loud, he had been arrogant before, and now he was a serious problem for someone he hadn't even dreamt existed on planet earth until just over an hour ago and despite that fact, Louis really had an attachment to Harry for some unknown reason. And Louis felt horrible for being horrible. So that was a bit extreme, but seriously, Louis liked Harry and this wasn't entirely Louis' fault no matter how you figured it, but it was bad from Harry's aspect and that sucked. Louis now knew that Harry saw Louis as an over entitled little shit. Harry was a hardworking person trying to earn a living, not some completely happy shiny pretty ditz of a thing, but an actual human being with the full gamut of emotions that came with that fact. Harry was multidimensional all of the sudden, new facets showing, strengths and weaknesses, needs and wants and fuck, it was so real it felt like a slap in the face to Louis. Louis wanted to dig his own grave right then and there, feeling like he deserved the hard work of it all, getting the soil caked under his nails and the dirt all over his face, earning the right to get to lie in a hole of his own creation but that wasn't even an option because he was on a plane, solid ground probably thousands of feet below his worn out toms. Louis was in this stupid place because of the simple need for money, just like Harry was but at least one of them was earning it legally.

That big hole Louis thought he had managed to plug up the night he decided he was actually going to do it- he was actually going to be a drug mule- was back and bigger than ever. It was growing bigger like a vacuum or perhaps a black hole in space was a better metaphor, eating up everything in its path until Louis felt like he wasn't himself anymore- he was just a gaping wound with arms and legs. Oh Christ on a cracker, his stomach hurt and Harry was repeating himself.

"Am I clear?" He vocalized slowly again.

Zayn cleared his throat and managed to mumble "crystal" and Louis was thankful because he really felt the urge to vomit, swallowing hard against regret and stomach acid that vaguely tasted latexy. He also couldn't think of one way to voice that to Harry, to say he had it all wrong, Louis wasn't a complete cock up who got off in weird places with his boyfriend and best mate- jeez he didn't even have a boyfriend so said problem wasn't even in the realm of possibility. Besides Niall minutes before, another actual person hadn't touch Louis' dick in four months. This was so surreal- never in his wildest dreams could his imagination have cooked this up, where he'd be today. He really couldn't have invented this shite. Nobody could. Never would he ever be like "hey Zayn. I'm think I'm going to go do some prep work, drink a shite ton of miralax, and then even give myself some enemas to be extra prepared because I think I'm going to swallow half a dozen balloons full of the glad stuff. Oh and I think I'll fly half way around the world after that. You in? Cause I'm also gonna get myself into some sexually compromising positions without actually getting off. It's gonna be fuuuuun, I swear." Louis could imagine getting caught though, unpleasantly spending time as someone's bitch in prison. He could even see his future cracked out self being sent off to schools as part of his probation to say "see kids? This is why you eat your broccoli, never talk to strangers, and don't mouth off to your parents. This is who you become."

"Oh wow," Zayn wheezed out after Harry had made his way down the isle and up towards the front of the plane. "That was fucking..."

"I'm sorry," Niall blubbered. "I should have said I did it, but who could have thought Bananas would go so... bananas," and Louis realized Irish was talking about Harry. It was hard to understand him through the thickness of his accent and his tears.

"No no. Shhh, Niall shhhh," Louis said, shaking his head from side to side while simultaneously putting a palm up and over Niall's mouth. "It's okay I swear, but you can't make him come back over here," Louis whispered and Zayn looked panicked.

"You've got to shut him up," Liam warned from the gap between the seats in front of him. Louis could only see a sliver of his face because of it, he saw a big eye, wide with fear- the pupil constricting in a sea of mocha and the cut of plump lips pulled into a thin line. 

"Do something," Zayn threatened, Niall's snuffling and whimpers starting to draw a little attention. Zayn rubbed at his injured hand and stuck his head up slightly to see if the very perturbed attendant had notice. Zayn had a harried and frantic look and Zayn was usually so unflappable so Louis reacted before his brain had a chance to function like he always did. His body went rigid and he kicked out like a startle horse which of course knocked into Liam's chair which then fell into Zayn's lap- it was like a bad domino reaction and at least Liam was a little prepared so he didn't fall completely into Zayn but still made a small oomphing sound and Zayn's hand wasn't trapped again. But the biggest "thing" (there was that WORD again), the one that seemed to matter most to Niall was that Louis had replaced his palm with his own mouth so now Louis and Niall's lips were attached. It worked like a balm and instantly soothed and silenced the emotional drunk wreck of an Irishman. It was about a solid minute before Niall tried to get the kiss to progress and Louis was actually reminded that hey, he wasn't kissing the person he wanted to be kissing.

A tiny little feminine voice far away could be heard saying "Mummy, can a boy and a boy have a baby?" and he pulled away from Niall who was still trying to insert his tongue into Louis' mouth.

"No means no Niall," Louis repeated and Zayn snorted at the whole situation.

"We've got to stop meeting like this. It's untoward. You should at least buy me a drink first," Liam tittered to Zayn who was staring down at Liam who was partially horizontal in Zayn's lap. And seriously had they been sitting there staring at each other for a whole minute and a half like a couple of bellends while Louis did all the heavy lifting? Again?! Kissing Niall wasn't exactly like swallowing bags of coke, but this felt like familiar territory to Louis and how his relationship with Zayn worked. Zayn was busy openly and adoringly gazing at Liam. It was unfair and sickening.

"Did you fucking just say untoward?" and at least Niall was interested in something wasn't a.) his dick b.) Louis' dick or c.) crying like a little girl when the head of their Barbie popped off.

"Yes," Liam said unapologetically, blinking owlishly like he'd never seen the lad before. "Don't ask me what it means but I've heard girls say it in films," he explained even though there was no information worth saving in that last sentence. "I'm Liam," Liam introduced.

"I know," Niall said and without saying who he was or missing a beat, Niall asked "what kind of shite films are you watching mate?"

"I dunno. They were on late and I couldn't sleep," Liam said and scratched his head a little. 

Louis couldn't help but see an opportunity for a slight dig at Zayn and then taking it. "And you didn't watch Iron Man instead?" Louis asked with fake astonishment because he could not count the times he had seen Zayn struggling with a bout of restlessness and watching Tony Stark be sassy and save the world. Louis could feel the waves of mortification and hate coming off Zayn like rays of heat radiating off of hot pavement in July. You didn't have to touch it to know it was hot just like how Zayn might not be showing how pissed off he was at Louis right at that moment to understand that he was and probably going to seek vengeance at any possible given time.

"Nah, it wasn't on right then," Liam said, not aware in the slightest of anything that was really going on around him. Zayn practically melted like butter over popcorn when he heard Liam basically admit to loving Iron Man.

"So were there any tits in this movie?" Niall inquired, also completely unaware of any subplot going on. Liam squinted his eyes with thought for a second, blushing and then shook his head. "And no arse or dick either?" Liam shook his head harder. Louis really looked at Liam now that he had the chance. Not bad, but Zayn had hooked up with many fitter birds and blokes. Louis didn't see what had Zayn all tied in knots because at least the other people had a unique feature or something that stood out, but Liam was decidedly uniform in everything the way Louis saw it. He had a few tattoos and a tiny squiggly birthmark on his throat that looked kind of like Australia or a heart if you tilted your head sideways and to the right. Plain shirt. Symmetrical features. Normal jean trousers. Big eyebrows. Slightly worn trainers. "That's stupid. I don't see the point in a movie like that" and Louis sort of felt like the same could be said of this conversation. What was the fucking point to it all? Liam laughed at Niall and his features took on a Disney-esque charm and maybe there was a diamond in the rough (oh god he was quoting Aladdin?), something there that Zayn's artistic eye could glean that Louis' couldn't. But Louis had bigger problems than Zayn's heart eyes, which Disney prince Liam was if he was one, and what Niall did with his hands as long as they didn't involve Louis. Louis felt like his whole body was too tight, that he was claustrophobic in his own skin. What a time for him to have another existential crisis, a great moment to grow a conscience, the perfect day for love to both blossom and die. Again, the dramatics but Louis couldn't help think they were true. And if he didn't flesh out the story of his life by making events and emotions seem bigger than they really were and more interesting, then who would think the tale of Louis' life was worth being heard? If he died, who would pick up the novel of his life and read because that's really what kept a story alive in the end- if anybody thought it was worth retelling. That's what immortality was. Louis felt his gut clench and felt woozy for a second with the mortality of it all.

He looked down at his lap and saw the discarded, forgotten, five fucking pounds for a few swallows of vodka. Louis unscrews the lid and downed it in one, two, three, gulps. It burned and tasted of plastic lit on fire, but hopefully it would help Louis with all this- all this fucking feeling. He could feel everything like it was a shirt rubbing on a bad sunburn. It hurt and was painful because that was the definition of hurt. But this felt big and bad and worse than the usual terrible he suffered from. It was like when someone told him to imagine how big the universe was. Louis would take the biggest thing he could imagine and then try to expand on that. And then do it again. And then do it again until Louis' brain ached and ceased to cooperate and function. That was what this pain felt like and he didn't know what to do with it. The laughter had died while Louis had gotten lost in his own mind and Zayn was looking out the window but Louis suspected it was so he could unadulteratedly watch Liam from the edge of his periphery while Niall tugged at loose thread that created part of the seam of his shirt. Liam just sat, his back against the wall of the cabin because the perfunctory portion of his chair was resting on Zayn's legs.

"So who touched who's prick?" Liam questioned, his body angled towards the lads who we're supposed to be behind him. 

"That was me" and Niall raised his left hand, a bracelet sliding down the wrist and past the bone where the arm became thicker.

"So were you the toucher or the touchie? Is that a word even?" Liam asked.

"It should be a word," Zayn agreed and of course Zayn would agree with Liam. Zayn thought Liam invented oxygen, made the world spin, and was all the good and wonderful things in the universe. Then again there was half a chance Liam might suck Zayn's cock at some point in the future. Louis and Zayn both loved each other deep down, but Louis wasn't doing that ever again. Their relationship had limits and they had found that out the hard way. They should have in theory worked romantically, but it was the whole square hole/round peg debate. The math worked out if you calculated it and given the radius and circumference of the circle, you should be able to fit it in that square peg, you know- just put enough pressure and just really jam it home, but- dammit it just wouldn't go in there. They weren't made to fit so it really couldn't be forced. The chemistry went all wonky and they were in reality too similar to make a good, working and dynamic couple.

"I touched," Niall admitted like it was something to be ashamed of. He wasn't the one who had a ton of people glaring at him with his trousers half open. 

"God, you can't just ask people who touched who's prick," Louis said tartly, wanting the topic of conversation to move along a bit. The whole experience had been traumatizing and only happened, like, 35 minutes ago and Louis didn't feel like rehashing it just yet. There would be a day long in the future where Zayn would remember this and then actually dare to mention it because it was long enough gone that the sting had dissipated, Zayn realizing it was cool to make a joke out of it because it didn't feel like squeezing lemon juice in a papercut for Louis. Enough time had lapsed for Louis to casually laugh off whatever clever thing Zayn had plenty of years to formulate. That's how things happened, but no one had given Liam his owner's manual on "how to be Louis and Zayn's friend- a work in progress. Chapter one: how to NOT piss Louis off and chapter two: Louis' ego".

"So you touched?" and Liam extended the ou vowels of the last word trying to guide Niall into saying something.

"Louis'," Zayn offered, pointing at his best friend's general genital region. "His- "you know"."

 

"Clearly because I WAS the one was sitting here in practically nothing but his pants," Louis said with an almost cold and visceral slice to his words.

"Well I'm not very good with logistics sometimes," Liam said "or geography. Or spelling," Liam listed off.

"Well would you like me to have Zayn here draw you a diagram including the location of where dicks go with phonetical titles so you can understand? What are you even good for anyway?" Louis asked saucily and ouch, yeah even though he served the ball, he could feel the backspin on the shot.

"Louis is color blind, is shit with foreign language, loves the sound of his own voice, and he has no idea where to draw the line sometimes," Zayn told Liam in a ditch effort to comfort the now crumple-faced Liam and make him smile. It was cute if you got into the whole lady and the tramp thing where one dog rolled the meatball towards the other with its nose in a romantic gesture.

"Jesus Zayn. Don't fucking hold back bro" Louis said, his feelings no worse for the wear but seriously it was no place of Zayn's to share Louis' shortcomings. It was like when Zayn had introduced Louis to Niall only about 1,000 times worse because if this was one of Zayn's comics, Liam now had Louis' kryptonite. 

"Since no one is here to answer for me, I'll go and you'll just have to trust me," Niall smiled contentedly. "I am not bad at spelling but ugg. Fuck me, grammar. I bite my nails. Oh, and there's the bum knee," Niall tapped his left leg. "And there was this one time I farted, it smelled so bad it woke up my brother who was asleep on the couch and then when he asked me what happened, I told him that HE farted." Niall clapped his hands together in delight, remembering something no one else was a part of so it was almost like he was laughing at his own joke, but Louis admitted to himself that it was a good prank. And Liam seemed to think it was pretty great. Zayn had his poker face on as per usual so it was hard to tell with him. "On the bright side, I am ambidextrous. I have great hearing and vision. I'm Irish so there's that. And I can play guitar," Niall continued on.

"Oh that's great. I can sort of carry a tune. I'm good at sports and can almost bench my weight," Liam told them and flexed his bicep in sort of display. It reminded Louis of a peacock flashing its plumage and now he wished he had flood insurance from the way it made Zayn perspire and drool next to him.

"Louis pretty good with singing too. Don't let him lie to you and say he can't play piano or footie. Also, don't go into any wagers over his FIFA skills. He will school you and take all your beer money," Zayn warned.

"Hey. I thought we were supposed to be sharing nice attributes," Louis frowned, but all these things were undeniably true.

"Well I don't exactly hear you singing my praises do I?" Zayn asked.

"Yeah who are you and what can you do?" Liam asked, inspecting and appraising Zayn like he was a shiny new toy and was seeking out the way you squeezed or pressed it to activate the secret Kung Foo grip. Zayn made a face and Louis could almost hear Zayn, the ghost of the words echoing in the shell of his ear. "You tell 'em" he could remember like yesterday. Maybe it was yesterday. Time felt suspended in the aircraft.

"This is Zayn. He has like, the coolest mate a man could ask for," and Zayn elbowed him, almost a reprimand to come on and talk him up. There were not only potential friends around him but also possible fuck fodder. "Right. Well he's a wicked artist and nobody knows it, but he's done some cool tagging back on the mean streets of London." Zayn's lips twitched into a pleased curl when Liam listened raptly, almost like if he was in school, this was when to get a pen out and take some notes because the teacher just said "this material is going to be on the final". "He's supposed to be mysterious but he's so not. He's shy. People think he's quiet but holy fuck, get to know him and the trick is shutting him up. He snores if he isn't sleeping on his side. He never closes the crisps so they don't get stale. And he thinks he so superior because he always knows best-" and at this turn of the conversation, Zayn cleared his throat to tell Louis to remember who his audience was and Louis veered back on course "but it's only because he usually does. He's a good mate because he'll tell you when you're about to do something stupid, let you make the mistake, even be your partner in crime and then let you secretly cry about it and not tell you you were wrong. It's pretty great," Louis concluded and Liam made an awing sound.

"I want a Zayn," Niall said.

"Well line up and fuck off cause this one's mine," Louis half joked. Louis had grown very fond and protective over Zayn throughout the years. It was kinda just the two of them versus everyone else always. Life had fated them as mates long ago and nothing had yet to rip them asunder. It was still a stocky little Louis standing next to a scrawny Zayn whose teeth seemed too big for his small mouth because his permanent ones were new and didn't fit with the rest of his body. There were no tattoos or visual or mental scars yet. They held onto each other at a tender age and didn't let go because they slowly found out that if they didn't hold the other one up, who would? It was weird letting strangers in and getting a glimpse of their world and the things they knew as every day fact and sort of took for granted. Louis could tell it actually wasn't lost on Niall and Liam appreciated it too. He imagined Liam through all the layers of muscle to see a boy awkward and still growing, worried about how people perceived him and the way things always just worked for others where he had to try that much harder to be average. He also peeled away at what Niall had created as an image for himself and did his best to see a little boy with dark hair that he hated and small freckles dotting the baby fat of his cheeks, gnarly little crooked teeth behind braces and the need to just be seen while he had a brother who shone so brightly. It was all there if he struggled enough to look at the cloudy image. And maybe it should be Louis taking notes because he thought this was interesting enough to hear about and it took the pressing urge to shite himself off the front burners for a moment and let things just simmer. At least he should maybe update his copy of "how to be Louis and Zayn's friend" to include foot notes and end of chapter highlights that included Niall and Liam. "I might lend him out every once in a while for a small fee though," Louis finally added wryly. 

Liam smiled in a way that made the skin by his eyes crinkle and Niall giggled. He fucking giggled when Zayn noted "fuck, that makes you sound like my pimp or summat."

"I've got 20£," Niall continued to laugh, waggling his eyebrows all the while.

"Save it for more whiskey. It's a long flight," Louis told him, moving around and trying to get comfortable in his seat but his intestines were sort of gurgling. "Do you think of anything besides your cock?" Louis asked, leaning forward a bit so more of his weight was balanced on his thighs than his tailbone.

"Sorry but my girlfriend was supposed to meet me in Mexico. She travels a lot and we had this whole trip to meet up planned and instead she didn't show and sent me a text saying she met someone else," and Niall's eyes started welling up again.

"No. No don't cry," Liam comforted while Zayn began to look panicky again. Turns out the only tears he found easy to deal with were Louis'.

"If I cry will he kiss me again?" Niall asked, jerking a thumb in Louis' direction.

"No dice kiddo. That was a one time thing," Louis stated somberly.

"Yeah, those lips are spoken for," Zayn snorted, referring to Louis' obvious infatuation with a certain flight attendant.

"Oh, are you two-" Liam sort of asked letting a hand wave finish his unasked question about Louis and Zayn's love lives- that were completely separate and had been for a long time in Louis' opinion. There were those couple of times when they were 12 that neither of them really ever spoke of, when they were teens and had discovered that hey, it felt good to have someone else rub up against your cock. There was that hot five minutes where it happened again a little later, when Louis had the crisis of "oh shite! I think blokes are really it for me" and Zayn had thought "yeah, blokes are pretty all right", but they couldn't make it work between the two of them. Louis was immature, too flighty, and kind of an emotional fuckwit while Zayn felt like he should be committed to Louis simply because they got each other off, but their similarities clashed, thus ending the summer fling of '09. In the end the decision was made Zouis should remain a bromance, Louis was in fact gay, and Zayn couldn't put a label on what he felt because everyone had parts he could work with and appreciate.

Zayn's eyes widened at Liam's implication and immediately spat out a "hell no". Louis felt like he should be offended because hey, he didn't look like Zayn but he definitely wasn't hard to look at either. He went to the gym- well he walked past it on the way to class everyday, had finally done something with his hair, and people tended to like the angles of his features and the cobalt of his eyes. He cleaned up all right when he decided to put effort into how he looked and it wasn't too far fetched because Zayn and he had at one point tried to make it happen... but Louis couldn't be arsed. He felt that he had too much on his proverbial plate and his mind was already too put out to make an effort. Today fucking sucked.

Liam's body seemed to visually relax, the tension in his shoulders waining and his spine was no longer ramrod straight. Seemed like Zayn wasn't the only one suffering from the affliction of attraction. Only lucky for Liam, Zayn felt the same way whether Liam was aware of it or not. Louis had known Zayn forever therefore knew his little ticks and tells where most people had a hard time reading him. Perks of being best mate, Louis sighed. He just wished he wasn't stuck here pining away for someone who thought he was shite. He was exhausted and he still had a lot to do.

"Who here is single?" Liam asked because apparently that's the way he operated. He asked the questions most people thought were idiotic so they kept them to themselves in order to save face when in reality, asking the question clarified a lot. It said something about Liam. He was brave which was a unique strength that was rare. He had learned not to care if someone thought he was stupid or not. Louis decided he liked Liam and that was saying a lot. Louis had a talent of disliking anyone at first glance, a talent that got a lot of use.

Niall raised his hand again and looked around. He looked on the verge of tears but remained stoic this time. Louis was sort of proud of Niall now that he knew the kid's tragic back story. Niall was just misunderstood. He probably had sat around the airport in Mexico, waiting for some pretty girl who owned his heart and she knew it. She took advantage of Niall's sweet nature and her bonus frequent flier miles and decided to go see someone else. Niall probably stayed in the airport and rescheduled his flight back home so he didn't have to experience Mexico without her. He probably plonked himself down in the airport bar and ordered himself drinks to feel better until he could just go back to the UK and have himself a good cry. Niall had said his relationship had been long distance. Niall was probably just drunk, hurt, and hard up for sex when he got on that plane and saw Louis had been seated beside him. Shit, if it had been Louis who was stood up in Mexico, Zayn would have to fly there to retrieve him because he'd be a fucking grade A, certifiable basket case. How had Niall even managed to pretend to be alright and smile before? It showed how beautiful a person Niall was on the inside, that he could face the world after that rejection and still be okay with other human beings. Niall was also in Louis' good books even if he had embarrassed Louis in front of a whole plane full of people, touched his dick, and made his new love interest think he was scum.

Today might have sucked in some regards, like how he was waging a losing battle with his intestines which now wanted to be his outtestines and that just wasn't an option, how he had managed to alienate tho only person he had been remotely attracted to in months, and Zayn was in a good mood which could only spell out disaster, but he couldn't compete on an emotional level with Niall and he didn't want to. Something about the pale faced blond made Louis just wanted to snuggle him and promise everything would be alright in the end. Even if Louis might not be able to carry out that oath, he wanted to try. Liam was growing on him like a fungus, an appealing and non-health hazard fungus, but still. His past 24 hours didn't compete with Niall's and for once he didn't feel like competing to prove who was in more pain because he didn't like fighting losing battles. Harry abhorred him which was painful, but he would get past it and never have to see him again unless he really wanted to- which he did so he could prove he wasn't an arsehole- or not a complete one, but he knew he wouldn't. Louis did have redeeming qualities like unshakeable loyalty- once Louis was in your life, you were stuck with him, even if he couldn't think of any others wonderful things about himself off the top of his head. He did sort of feel like an undeserving animal considering the epically good nature of the lad's around- even Zayn's moody little fits seemed more regulated and small in comparison to what they usually were. And so what, people had seen how he was truly loud and unapologetic for it. Louis had cool grey boxer briefs and possibly two knew friends that he would make an effort to seek out once back in London and had passed the packets of blow and gone back to a relatively normal life. He wanted to hang out with Liam, Niall, and especially Zayn (and yes Harry too if he could patch things up once he got back home.) Louis thought he might have two new friends who would put up with his neurosis and that was pretty epic since it had just been Zayn and Louis alone for years. The thought was sort of thrilling and so unique because he hadn't had a new friend in years. He had sexual one offs to blow off pent up steam, but they were never heard from again. He could imagine the four of them at a bar, laughing and goofing off and it was- it was enticing. New friends- and Zayn might actually get a committed relationship out of it. Again surreal, but pleasantly so. Louis might have been glowing despite the fact that his colon was really putting up a fight.

Liam put his hand up despite the fact that he had asked the question in the first place. It was another admiral feat: he was honest and willingly open to share information with people, something that Zayn never did. Zayn could talk to you for five hours about the merits of DC versus Marvel, but getting him to admit to his true emotions, even when the truth was blatantly staring both of them in the face, it was like pulling teeth without novicane, bloody and horrific, but here Zayn was, raising his hand while openly looking hopeful at Liam.

Amazingly, Zayn actually answered the question by lifting his had to just above his chest, right where his heart would be and wiggled his fingers in the affirmative of being unattached and Louis almost blew a gasket at how forthcoming Zayn was being. He was coming out of his heavily armored shell, even if it was just to impress Liam.

Louis sighed with resignation and said sadly "single". Everyone had sheepish smiles, feeling like they had revealed a lot in a short amount of time and that trust was building.

What was shocking was when the person in front of Niall raised his hand. They could see nothing about him except a broad palm, long rough fingers and pale skin.

"Who asked you?" Louis asked harshly because he felt like their safe bubble had just been popped. The bloke turned around and kneeled on his seat so he could see over his head rest. His hazel eyes focused on Niall and everyone waited for new guy to say something.

"I'm Josh. I'm a drummer and I'm sorry I listened in but it was fascinating. I also saw Niall board and I- I," the sandy brown hair kid with slightly stretched lobes looked scared and worried. "I saw Niall board behind me and I just- he was so cute. I swear I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I loved his accent and then he said he played guitar and I- he was so cute and I was sort of smitten. He was talking about his break up and something really similar happened to me a year ago and I just wanted to help." Josh's cheeks turned pink like he had spent too much time out in the sun and he sunk down a little so all you could see was his glossy brown and blond faux hawk, his honest eyes, and the tip of his rather adorable button nose. "I think Niall's really fascinating and cute," and at that Niall lit up like a candle, noticing the tops of Josh's broad and highly muscled shoulders.

"You did?" Niall asked shocked and there was that glimmer of heat and lust coloring his face again. You really couldn't keep this Irishman down. 

Niall tapped on the back of the chair between Liam and josh. A weary looking business man with a pot belly and an atrocious comb over turned around. "What?" He grumbled. 

"Do you want to trade seats so me and my friend can chat?" Niall tried, a sincere look of hope painted his slightly inebriated face.

"What's in it for me?" The suit asked, looking to get something out of the bargain.

"A bottle of whiskey," Niall proffered and shook the tiny bottle a little, dangling it between the seats.

"If that little pervert pulls his dick out, I'm reporting all of you," he threatened while grabbing Niall's whiskey greedily.

"I promise. No more penis," Louis said sincerely.

"Alright," businessman grumbled and grabbed his stuff so he could rearrange his seating assignment. Niall looked ecstatic as he waited patiently in the isle and finally everything was arranged. Niall was wedged between josh and Liam and the over weight middle aged man pounded the liquor, sat down and proceeded to fall asleep in Niall's newly vacated spot. 

Josh and Niall went on to flirt quietly with Liam adding little comments here and there to the new couple's interaction. 

"Looks like it's just you and me again," Zayn whispered to Louis quietly, watching the budding friendships and romances.

"I swear Zayn, Liam wants your cock so bad, astrologist can spot it from space using their telescopes, satellites and other fancy gismos, but I think we have a more serious problem at hand," Louis stated gravely.

"On a one to ten, how bad we talking?" Zayn asked, completely focused on his best mate.

"I'd estimate a 45," Louis said nervously.

"If this is about Harry-" but Louis interrupted.

"No, it's the product Zayn. My stomach hurts so bad, I'm trying not to cry," and Zayn noticed Louis body visibly quake and tremble.

"Do you think one broke?" Zayn inquired, voice so serious it was unnerving.

"Don't think so. The product wants out. I think I'm sick," Louis said and it was true. Louis brow had a sheen of sweat and his usually caramel complexion had a waxy tone with a tinge of green.

"Can't you cross your legs or summat?" Zayn asked in a rush.

"For the next nine hours?" Louis asked critically like Zayn had lost what little sanity he was born with.

"That's a no then?" Louis didn't even dignify that with an answer.

"How could you be sick? We took all the proper precautions?" Zayn rattled off.

"No, I took all the proper precautions Zee," he said with heavy sarcasm "but I think I took a sip of the tapwater this morning after I brushed my teeth. I should've used the water bottle but I forgot. We were in a rush. I'm so fucking stupid I can't believe this is happening. I don't know what to do but I have to do something. I'm running out of time and options."

"It was only a sip of the water? Should be okay..." Zayn thought critically, his mind moving at a mile a moment, but fuck he didn't know what to do either. This was really fucking serious. This is how they were going to get caught.

"I can't argue right now. I HAVE to GO. Now! If I'm not back in ten minutes, send in the Calvary," and Zayn could only watch as Louis climbed over the big snoozing sales man with the grace of a gymnast and waddle slash hustle to the loo located at the back of the plane as fast as his short legs could carry him. Fucked was not even the proper word to cover this situation. They were dead if Louis couldn't hold those was packets in.

Zayn bowed his head and placed his forehead on the heels of his hands. "We are so, so epically screwed," Zayn muttered to himself and then marked the time by looking at his watch. 10 minutes until he knew if he was going to be locked up in some prison abroad like in that tellie program. He was far too pretty for jail. Zayn look up just in time to see Harry watching Louis run to the bathroom. Zayn really didn't like to use the saying "things couldn't possibly get worse" because that was just tempting fate, but really what harm could come from thinking it because they were so far in shit, it was past their eyebrows and still piling up. God help Louis if Harry found out.


End file.
